My Estranged Cousin Tried to Evict Me From the Normandy Base Wash Station—Until I Pinned Him to the Concrete Floor
The silence in the washhouse felt heavy, stifling. Douglas lay sprawled on the concrete, gasping for air, his eyes wide with shock and fury. I stood over him, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The soldiers remained motionless, their faces a mixture of disbelief and awe.
Before Douglas could even push himself up, before Captain Garrick, who had just stepped into the doorway, could utter a word of outrage, a deafening roar tore through the air.
It wasn’t a truck, or a plane, or even friendly artillery. This sound was raw, violent, and far too close.
A thunderous explosion rocked the very ground beneath our feet. The entire wash building shuddered violently. A blinding flash of white light momentarily filled the small windows.
An enemy artillery shell. Off-target, but agonizingly close.
The shockwave hit us instantly. The heavy timber support beams groaned, then snapped with the sound of splintering bone. Dust and plaster rained down from the ceiling.
A terrible cracking sound ripped through the air as the massive oak roof structure began to collapse.
“Incoming!” someone screamed, the sound lost in the cacophony.
Panic erupted. Soldiers dropped their gear, scrambling for the exits, tripping over buckets and each other in a desperate dash for safety.
The washhouse became a maelstrom of flying debris and terrified shouts. Heavy timbers crashed down, sending up clouds of fine, grey dust that choked the air and burned my eyes.
I ducked instinctively, covering my head as a large section of the roof gave way with an ear-splitting crunch. Splintered wood rained down around me.
Through the swirling dust, I saw Douglas still struggling on the floor, dazed from my throw and the concussive blast. He was directly in the path of a collapsing rafter.
A massive oak beam, thick as a tree trunk and easily thirty feet long, detached from the ceiling with a slow, agonizing groan. It plunged downward.
It struck the concrete floor with a horrifying impact, sending vibrations through the ground.
And then, silence. A ringing, painful silence in my ears.
The argument, the humiliation, the accusations—all of it was instantly, brutally cut short. The dust settled slowly, revealing the devastation.
Douglas, still on his back, was pinned beneath the monstrous beam, his chest caught. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror, staring up at the broken sky where the roof used to be.
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